As the sun grew tired of watching Skye walk, it slipped behind the horizon, surrendering the sky to the moons. Seven pale orbs hung above tonight, their light dim and cold, casting long shadows that seemed to move with a will of their own.

  Skye trudged forward, his limbs leaden and his thoughts sluggish. It felt as if he’d been walking for days. He wondered whether the forest had some kind of special fantasia—like the Deep’s—that’s been contaminating his body. The rumble of his stomach threatened to attract predators, and his throat was so parched, he believed he could drink the entire river dry. Yet it was the pounding headache that tormented him most; he’d rung his bell more times today than he would in a week back in Troqua.

  His eyelids were as heavy as they could get, but sleeping in the open was dangerous. Climbing a tree wasn’t a solution either; nocturnal predators could be as adept at scaling heights as they were at prowling the ground. Plus, he could fall.

  He stumbled to a halt, his back against a tree, and slid down to think. The air was alive with howls, hoots, hisses, and hums. Many of them originated too close for comfort. His bell had deleted his trace, but the winds could carry his smell, and some creature could detect his body’s heat. Worse of all, if any elexii were nearby, they could detect the fantasia flowing within him.

  His mind wandered to other, less immediate questions. How many wardens had made it back to Troqua? Had Ficar survived? What about that strange pyroxos with the crown? Could the elexii have pressed on toward the city instead of giving up the chase? Were his friends safe?

  What was Rierana doing right now?

  He pictured her cozy in her warm bed, a soft smile on her face after a hearty meal. Lyonel would already be asleep, as that bookworm always rose early to prepare for work. Then he saw Gideom in his one-room home in the Coals, resting peacefully under a threadbare blanket.

  Too peacefully… his chest wasn’t rising. Skye approached him, unease gnawing at his mind. He sensed his pulse and found the old man’s body had petrified to cold stone.

  “No,” he whispered, voice trembling. “No!” he shouted as Gideom’s face cracked and out crawled a swarm of black insects, spilling out like blood from a wound.

  They flowed toward him, a chittering tide that climbed and drowned him. Screaming, he slapped and struck, but they wouldn’t let go, biting into his skin and laughing as he begged for release. Even Gideom’s skeletal form rose, pointing a bony finger at him, its hollow eye sockets blazing with red fire. The swarm pulled him deeper into the abyss, forming a chain from his shame of getting caught, and another from his regret of failing, splaying him against the wall.

  He woke screaming.

  Kicking and thrashing, he clawed at the dozens of ants, beetles, and roaches scurrying over him, and wriggling under his clothes. He jumped to his feet, slapping and stomping, face twisted in a painful grimace, tears streaming down his face. Only when he was sure there was nothing left crawling on him did he stop, his breath hitching as his chest heaved.

  “Goo~ood morning, sunshine,” Redeyes greeted, drinking steaming tea from an ornamented cup. “There’s something slithering in your hair.”

  Skye let out a strangled yell, smacking at his head until a worm and a moth tumbled free. His body was trembling, his face hot with tears, snot, and sweat.

  Activating his curse to ward off the pests, he winced at the sharp pain it sent slicing through his skull. The sunlight stabbing into his eyes didn’t help, and he knew that the more he rang his bell today, the sharper the pain would grow.

  “You really have a way of starting the day with flair,” Redeyes said, stretching. “Well then, I hope you learned your lesson about sleeping out in the open. You know you got lucky it was just some crawlies, right?”

  Skye’s long trek resumed, his stomach growling. Hunger eventually forced Skye to move. He hadn’t found anything edible yesterday, but he hoped luck would favor him this morning.

  Crouching, he picked up a blue-and-brown umbrella mushroom and held it to his nose. He was unsure whether it was of the slightly spicy variety, or the type to melt his jaw off.

  Not willing to gamble, he flung it aside and kept walking until he found a tree laden with emerald berries. They dangled invitingly, heavy and juicy, but he knew that a handful would turn his blood green and make his heart race until it burst.

  A chirp drew his attention. Perched above, a colorful bird plucked and devoured the berries without a care. It looked like a colorful moth, with a long thin beak and long delicate antennae extending from the fluff of feathers atop its head. Its turquoise eyes glimmered like polished gems, and crimson beads embedded in its wings pulsed with blue blood. Feathers trailed behind it in light pinks and teals, making it look like a creature from a dream.

  Skye’s stomach growled louder. Pleasant as it was to see, he’d bet its taste would please him more.

  Deliberately, he crouched, picked up a stone, and threw it. At the last second, the bird reached to pluck another berry, letting the pebble fly overhead. It struck the tree with a thud, frightening the creature into flight.

  Ringing his bell, Skye winced as pain surged through his skull. Luckily, the bird turned and landed on a nearby branch, having forgotten it had been attacked.

  Silently, he closed the distance and aimed again, memories of hunting deepbats sharpening his focus. He threw, and once more, the bird ducked at the last second, flew, then returned after a chime.

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  Skye grimaced in pain.

  “Won’t it be faster to just hit your head with a rock?” Redeyes asked, munching on emerald berries.

  Dropping the stones, Skye dug into his bag. “Just watch,” he whispered, retrieving a photrine.

  Redeyes raised a pair of blazing eyebrows. “Ah, the old ‘make an explosion and summon an elexos’ suicide method! A classic.”

  Ignoring him, Skye approached the bird again, enduring the relentless pounding in his head as his bell chimed. With intense focus, he aimed and hurled the photrine… only for this stupid-lucky bird to avoid it again. It exploded against the branch in a burst of sparks and smoke. This time, the bird flew for good, not returning even after Skye cast his curse.

  “You failed?!” Redeyes raised a hand to his chest. “Color me shocked!”

  More out of spite than hunger, Skye hunted for other game. Most birds nestled high, impossible to reach, and rabbits darted away faster than he could follow. A badger with woody roots growing out its back hissed menacingly when he approached, and a viper swinging between branches like a rubber acrobat lunged dangerously close.

  Finally, he spotted a lone deer grazing in a clearing. But as its azure antlers gleamed, and trees lashed their branches at him, he was forced to flee to Redeyes’s most delight.

  Then he saw the tortoise clinging to the side of a tree. It was massive, its shell half-covered in leaves, vines, and tiny flowers. The head was retracted, but the limbs were long and covered in greenish-brown fur, tipped with obsidian claws. Its short, hairy tail twitched occasionally as if the creature were lost in a dream.

  “That thing could feed us for days,” Redeyes said. “Or we could be its breakfast.”

  Retrieving one of his bigger pyrpphires, Skye aimed at the top of the shell. If he could hit the hidden head, he’d slay it in one strike. Something glistened up atop a branch, but it was just some stupid looking bird—an alabaster-white ruff, fat with short wings and beak, and a collar of feathers around its neck that doubled as a second chin.

  Exhaling deeply, Skye took his chance.

  A sudden flash of sunlight blinded him, forcing him to shield his eyes. When he looked again, the pyrpphire was flying straight back at his face. At the last second, he ducked, the crystal detonating behind him in a fiery burst, setting a tree ablaze. He didn’t pause to consider what had happened. With a chime from his bell, he fled.

  Panting on the forest floor, Skye felt so hungry he wished he were a cow so he could eat grass. The whole ordeal reminded him of his time in the dungeon. But he’d spent days there, while this was only his second in the forest. What was wrong with him?

  “Oh, I’m so glad you asked. Where should I start?” Redeyes said, counting on his bony fingers. “Is it perhaps that you’ve failed at everything you’ve tried? Or the fact that your single saving grace is that no one remembers how much of a disappointment you are? Or maybe it’s that you have the audacity to live while better men rot and petrify?”

  Skye opened his mouth to scream at him, but only a croak came out. When he tried again, it turned into a painful cough. He was sick and tired of his stupid quips. Wasn’t the hell he’s going through enough as torture?

  “Since you’re so keen on dying, I hear a river nearby you may want to try,” Redeyes said, pointing.

  Skye followed the purling to a brook no deeper than two feet and about three wide. It rushed over mossy rocks, twisting through the trees. Cautious, he hid and waited, making sure no bones floated through the stream.

  “It’s probably safe to drink,” Redeyes whispered. “It’s not like every book written about this forest warns to stay away from rivers and lakes.”

  With so little to lose and much to gain, Skye approached, dipping his fingers in the cool water. After a few careful sips, thirst overtook him, and he shoved his whole face into the brook. He came back up gasping, feeling immensely better. Even his headache seemed lighter.

  Something splashed beside him.

  Shrieking, he stumbled back, summoning his bell, ready to run. But it was only a carp. Redeyes burst out laughing, and this time, Skye smiled too.

  He pulled out his one and only sonolar stone. In what seemed like another life, Skye used to fish with Rierana and Lyonel in the lake. They’d tried all kinds of crystals, and the best was by far the sonolar. Upon impact, it didn’t freeze, burn, or poison its victim, but merely released a shockwave that stunned anything swimming nearby.

  This fish was no different. It jerked violently, circled until its strength was spent, then floated belly-up. Skye whooped and rushed to grab it.

  That’s when he heard the rush upstream.

  The aquaxos surged across the stream like a horizontal waterfall. Its body was a blob of bubbly water, wide as a whale, and ten feet tall. Wildly, it tossed its tens of tendrils in a terrifying thrash. Some tree trunks it whipped, some bank rocks it smashed. It didn’t have eyes, a skull, nor a face, but sharp shark teeth glistened when it opened its maw. Other bones writhed inside it with little grace, and bony fins formed across its back a saw. Its purpose was clear; it wanted to find the vermin violating its domain and exterminate them with speed. Fighting against fear, Skye waddled towards his fish, spurred by hunger and egged on by greed.

  He might’ve reached the fish in time had the current not swept it away. Watery flails cracked against wood, and flying gravel clattered closer and closer. The fiend was almost upon him.

  Staring at the drifting fish, he smelled its roasted skin, and tasted its hot flesh. With a whimper, he leaped aside, ducked behind a large mossy rock, and activated his curse.

  The aquaxos exploded.

  Water rained down like a burst dam, and the current gushed so violently that Skye was nearly ripped from cover. He clung to the rock, breaking two nails, but didn’t let go. As suddenly as it had appeared, the aquaxos rushed away, white bones drifting in the foam, and the stream returned to normal. Skye let out a breath.

  “That was close,” Redeyes said, standing behind him. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll succeed in dying next time.”

  Skye dared not reply least the aquaxos return. Rising slowly, he crept back into the forest. His fishing attempt had failed, and once again, he was soaked. As he considered waiting in the sun to dry, something caught his eye, drawing a grin.

  “It’s still here!” he whispered.

  The fish hadn’t vanished with the curse, nor had it been washed away by the tide. It lay on the grass by the stream, still as stone. He ran to his prize, ringing his bell to cover the splashes under his feet. The fish didn’t disappear.

  The curse had made the aquaxos responsible for its death.

  Laughing, he snatched it up and threw his arms in the air, dancing in victory. A swift shadow dashed by, and he felt a fish lighter.

  “Give it back, you thief!” he shouted at the horrid bird clutching his fish in its talon.

  It glared down at him with lemon-yellow eyes, feathers black as obsidian. Perched high on a branch, it tore into the fish with a wicked hooked beak. It was large—more vulture than raven—and it did not appreciate Skye yelling or hurling rocks at it.

  “I said give it back, or I’ll pluck you bald and eat you instead!” Skye shouted, throwing more pebbles and missing wildly.

  The avian spread its wings, but there were no feathers or pinions there. Or even flesh or bones. Only umbral membranes that undulated with the wind, widening, bubbling like boiling tar then popping to reveal bloodshot eyes staring through the darkness, full of hatred and hunger, hypnotizing in their horror.

  Losing his appetite, Skye activated his curse, and ran.

  **********